


Just Like Old Times

by Xx_Astrid_xX



Series: Poor Timing [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Battle of Hogwarts, Corporal Punishment, Dark Magic, Dumbledore's Army, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Insanity, Master/Pet, Murder, Obsession, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Rape, Second War with Voldemort, Tom Riddle's Diary, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2018-08-14 23:14:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8032768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xx_Astrid_xX/pseuds/Xx_Astrid_xX
Summary: In Voldemort's universe, everything is different. Now that Harry Potter had been dealt with, he can focus on his favorite obsession, Ginny Weasley; and it isn't going to be pretty. With him obsessing over Horcruxes, reminiscing over his time in the diary with Ginny back in her first year, and writing back to her in the restored book, running the Wizarding World is going to be slightly more difficult... But that's what he has Death Eaters for.





	1. The Reverting

“My Lord!” Bellatrix’s voice was shrill, angry, and bewildered.  
“What?” Voldemort roared, surging off of Ginny and to his feet. His body turned into his own again.  
She peered up at him, eyes wide. He loomed over her furiously.  
“I- Dolphie sent me- I didn’t intend to-”  
“Get on with it, you worthless-” Voldemort hissed, advancing towards her. He would wring her neck, he would suck her soul from her, he would-  
“I can be of help to you!” Bellatrix whined shrilly. The older she got, the less the whiny brat expression suited her, not that it ever had.  
“Take the Weasleyette to Hogwarts,” snapped Voldemort. “She needs to finish her schooling.”  
“My Lord-” Bellatrix argued.  
“You dare challenge me, Bella?”  
“No, my Lord-”  
“Then do as I say!” He boomed, his hand flailing open, undoing Ginny’s bindings. She stood at once, and then Bellatrix wordlessly led her to the fireplace.  
She would finish her schooling, be the best she could be, and only then would Voldemort break her. It would be most satisfying then…  
He had business at Hogwarts, too, but it could until nightfall. His business was in Rodolphus’ new desk; Dumbledore’s old. He would repair his Horcruxes… And Ginny would get her beloved Nagini back; Riddle Junior’s diary.

 

Voldemort stared down his nose at the girl before him; she was bound, gagged, furious, and- perhaps the most to his satisfaction- utterly helpless before him.  
Her flaming orange hair trailed over the duct tape layered from ear to ear, overgrown sidebangs stabbing her right sienna iris. Her pretty eyes were narrowed and hateful, utterly headstrong, and fierce. All three were qualities he demanded in his women.  
Not that Ginevra Weasley was willingly his… Somehow, that made his reign over her even sweeter. When that Potter brat had ruined his journal, all of the memories of that portion of his soul had come flooding back to him, along with every detail of eleven year old Ginny Weasley, alone and afraid, strong and fierce.  
As every year passed, his obsession with her grew until it rivaled his obsession with the downfall of Harry Potter… And then, he’d heard from Amycus that apparently, Ginny was dating the bane of Voldemort’s existence. That had enraged him and he’d vowed to have her. He was more man than Potter could have ever grown to be.  
“Sweet little Ginevra,” he cooed. She growled words at him through her gag, and he smiled delightedly. “I’ve missed you.”  
Dubiosity joined the livid expression on her face, a sort of reluctant confusion that delighted Voldemort.  
“Perhaps you’ve forgotten, what with me being in this form?” He asked, imagining how he looked; what he had become, and who he had always truly been.  
He was tall and thin, as he’d always been, but his skin was a sallow grey, his bones obvious. The structure of his face was somewhat similar, but Tom Senior’s bones were obscured by Voldemort’s soul. His nose had sunken a bit into his face, the nostrils thinning and elongating, giving him a resemblance to a serpent. His eyes had brightened from a dull brown that shone crimson in the light to crimson that looked black in the darkness he usually stuck to. His hair had all fallen out. Even his voice had changed; while it once had been loud, commanding, and charming, it was now threatening, high, and emotionless.  
But, for his little flame, he used his immense amount of magic and skill to revert- ephemerally- back to young, strapping Tom Marvolo Riddle.  
His hair regrowing was an odd sensation, but he grew it to be exactly as he’d worn it until the last hair fell out; slightly longer on top, the curls being close-fitting waves on the side, the top greased back slightly so that it looked tousled and glossy. His skin brightened into an impossibly fair shade, and he felt his eyes normalize themselves. His nose extended forward once more, slightly but significantly, and it had one small protuberance on the bridge of it, where the bone opening was slightly thicker than the cartilage part of his nose.  
Ginny’s face didn’t change a fraction when she saw him. He smiled at her and stroked her cheek with his palm, but she threw herself away so sharply the back of her head cracked against the wall. She grunted but made no visible show of her pain.  
Riddle tsked. “Remember, little weasel,” the mocked. “I have custody of every single one of your friends. Luna Lovegood is with Fenrir Greyback- you’ll know of him, I assume, despite the dismal rock-like state of your previous living arrangement- and I can have him do anything to her- kill her, turn her into a werewolf, take that airy, annoying little innocence and crush it into dust…” Riddle smiled brightly as Ginny tensed, those brilliant mental gears of hers turning like a great muggle machine, searching for a way to disobey without inadvertently harming those she held most dear.  
“Neville Longbottom is with the Lestranges, and I’m sure Bella would be delighted if i let her have her way with him. Hermione’s been taken by Lucius; she attacked Draco, and killed Narcissa, though, so I’m afraid I’ve already permitted the unravelling of her mind,” Riddle waved his hand as if speaking of the weather; to him, her friends’ lives were as impersonal as just that. “I’m afraid Draco’s been treating Potter very softly, but I can always change my mind and have him killed… Or, at very least, torture him until there is nothing left of him. Then we could keep him around, for you to see, lifeless and broken and-”  
Ginny made a loud noise and flailed, an odd show of defeat. She would obey him, albeit unwillingly and impermanently… But for now.  
Riddle smiled brightly at her, and grabbed her by the rope binding her shoulders, purposefully brushing her breasts as he did so. He pulled her back into her sitting position and leaned her against the wall. Her face never changed, but she kept her body limp like a ragdoll. A shame she didn’t fight, really… But that would come later, he supposed. She was a smart girl, after all, very smart…  
He disrobed and smoothed his black trousers and white button-down shirt, several buttons undone. He was sure it was an odd sight to see when he was himself, Voldemort, but he’d always worn his clothing like that. He knew it looked very devil-may-care on Riddle, though he doubted little Ginny noticed. All in good time… He clutched the thighs of his trousers and gracefully slinked to straddle the girl; her arms were at her sides, her legs straight out.  
He ran his fingers through the fire that grew from her head. Her skin had a wicked tan, and she was alive and vibrant in color, so unlike Bellatrix or any of the other woman he’d had.  
He remembered his first; Druella Rosier. She’d been Bellatrix’s mother- later, after Hogwarts and after Tom Riddle Jr, she had married Cygnus Black- and had looked a great deal like her, though her hair had been silver-white. Voldemort had been fourteen, Druella sixteen, and their short, passionate affair had begun at one of Slughorn’s parties.  
After her, in the remaining years of Hogwarts, he’d had a slew of girls- five Slytherins (Walburga Black, Druella’s to-be sister-in-law; Aphrodite Rosier, Druella’s identical twin sister; Abrigaide Malfoy, Lucius’ paternal aunt; Jocelyn Greengrass; Pearline Pockett, a muggleborn girl who had been anything but willing to jump into bed with Riddle) three Ravenclaws (Citronella Boot, a descendant of Webster Boot; Myrtle Warren, a girl he later ended up killing for the sheer fun of it; Klementine Martin, a half-veela exchange student from Beauxbatons) three Hufflepuffs (Helga Smith, niece of Hepzibah Smith, the heiress of Hufflepuff, and she had been a stepping stone on his way to getting it; Olive Hornby, whom he had sought after due to her immense beauty and surprising cruelty for a Hufflepuff; Jeannina Weasley, the born Weasley to date born without red hair) and two Gryffindors (Jessica Parkinson, and Minerva McGonagall, though the latter had been a very difficult and rather fun feat at that; he pursued her for the entirety of their sixth year, and after she had given in and made love to him, he dropped her like dead weight,) and not a single one of them had a drop of color. After Hogwarts, he’d lost count of the women- they threw themselves at him, honestly, and he had his pick of the lot- though once he’d found young Bella, he’d settled down in his ways. He’d been well into his transformation, hadn’t he? But Bellatrix had not cared… How old had she been when they had met? Thirteen, fourteen? Gorgeous still, he knew, but dull.  
Riddle ran his fingers through Ginny’s hair more. She was the epitome of color, like breathing in pure autumn. She smelled of cinnamon, even, and he embraced her, holding her chilly, lithe body, inhaling the scent of her.  
He released her. “Do you recognize me now, pet?”  
He’d called her that in the diary. He remembered it as she nodded curtly, reluctantly, afraid of the punishments her loved ones would suffer if she didn’t.  
"Dear Diary," she’d written in her compact, scratchy hand.  
"I’m not entirely sure where I’ve gotten you from. I’m not really the kind of girl to keep a diary- the one time she subject’s come up in my family, Ron described it as being girly and growing up with seven brothers and a terse (albeit loving) mother kind of restricts the opportunities for such silliness to take place in a girl. However, your cover is unassuming and I’ll admit I’m a bit lonely. Ron would always play with me, or at least talk with me, let me tag along when he went roaming near the Burrow, but he’s found himself a new friend… None other than the famed Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived; he who took on the Dark Lord Voldemort and won at the delicate age of one and three(?) months. I must admit, he’s rather charming… He has the loveliest eyes, and his hair is a frightful black mess. He gets this little smile, you see, around Ron… Anyway. I’m all alone now, so I was thinking you could be my friend?"  
She’d paused then, probably to write, or revise, or read over what she’d said, before Tom Riddle had written back.  
"Dear Girl Without Silliness,  
I would be honoured to be your friend. Seven brothers must be a lot- I daresay I don’t think I could handle that. Ron sounds like an out-and-out git, and so does this Potter fellow. What is the Burrow?"  
"Dear Diary,  
Enchanted diary? How wonderful! Yes, it does get a bit overwhelming sometimes… Most of the time. Ron is a git, and I don’t know Harry enough to dub him one. The Burrow is what we call our house; we’re rather poor, you see, and with seven children… It’s like an orphanage, the building, except we love each other.  
Actually, I shouldn’t say that. Maybe orphans grow up like siblings or something; I wouldn’t know. But the building itself is reminiscent to those creepy muggle orphanages in every other ghost story they tell."  
"Dear G.W.S.,  
It’s not particularly wonderful for me; the poor bloke enchanted into the diary, but then again, I’ve not been written in in… Well, years. 1943, I believe it was. My name is Tom Riddle, by the way- Tom Marvolo Riddle. I would love to hear about your family, Ms…  
As an orphan who, coincidentally enough, grew up in a ‘creepy muggle orphanage’, I can attest to the validity of your assumption; they are unfortunately without love, or even tolerance."  
"Dear Mr. Tom Marvolo Riddle,  
How dreadfully unfortunate, Mr. Riddle! Who dare curse you to such a life? My name is Ginevra Molly Weasley, though I appreciate the nickname Ginny. It’s 1992 right now, so you’ve been alone for hardly shy of 50 years.  
My dad is Arthur Charles Weasley, head of the Department of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. He’s gone nearly all the time, and all of his hobbies include things that would get him arrested if he had to raid our house. However, when he’s home, he’s goofy and loving and sweet to me. I think I’m his favorite, being the only daughter.  
My mum is Molly Weasley, nee Prewett. He’s loud and screechy but ultimately loving and kind and caring. She accepts all faults and she refused to stop having kids until she got a girl; before the First Wizarding War (after your time and before mine), Voldemort’s followers (Death Eaters; Voldemort is the Darkest Wizard in history, the one I mentioned Harry defeated) killed her two brothers, Fabian and Gideon. They both wanted one thing out of life; a daughter. I know I’m her favorite.  
William (Bill) Arthur Weasley is my eldest brother, born 29/11/1970. He works for Gringotts and he’s absolutely adorable; he’s got an orange ponytail, a single earring, and a tattoo of a naked Goblin on his chest that dances and curses. If he weren’t my brother, and a jillion years older than me, I reckon I’d be in love with him. He’s partial to my brothers Fred and George.  
Charles (Charlie) Gunnard Weasley is next, 12/12/1972. He’s a dragonologist and has a tattoo of a rather lovely Norwegian Ridgeback on his back. He’s dorky and fun at the same time, enjoys bad dragon puns, and saying awkward and irrelevant facts at the most inappropriate of times. He’s partial to my brother Percy.  
Perseus (Percy) Ignatius Weasley is third, born 22/08/1976. He’s an irritating git and an insufferable know-it-all, and I had to kill on human being on this planet, it would be him. He’s in his Sixth year right now, and I can’t wait for him to be gone. Gonna be a bigshot Ministry worker, blah blah blah. He doesn’t like any of us.  
Next are twins, Fred Gideon and George Fabian Weasley, born April’s Fools Day of 1978. They’re fourth years and I absolutely admire them. They’re rambunctious, loud, pranksters and troublemakers, and are absolute deviants. They say they’re going to get a picture of Percy screaming at them (they say they won’t ever get a tattoo unless the other has it, too) as he always does with his ‘big, ugly mug’. They’re partial to each other.  
Then it’s Ron, or Ronald Billius Weasley, born 03/01/1980. He’s my favorite, I reckon, if only because he spends the most time with me. He’s my best friend, I suppose, and he’s silly and tries to be tough, but he’s a big softie. He lets me sleep with him when I get nightmares and mutters about spiders in his sleep. He’s usually on the receiving end of the twins’ pranks.  
And then, there’s me, Ginevra Molly Weasley, the first Weasley-born female in the family since Jeannina Weasley, also the only non-Gryffindor Weasley and the only Weasley-born person without red hair. I like to steal my brother’s brooms, try (and fail) to out-prank the twins’, and come up with silly names for everything. For instance, my heart is named Heremino and my brain is named Almorzamos.  
My apologies about the orphanage deal. I’d like to hear about you, too, if you don’t mind? I-"  
“My Lord!” Bellatrix’s voice was shrill, angry, and bewildered.  
“What?” Voldemort roared, surging off of Ginny and to his feet. His body turned into his own again.  
She peered up at him, eyes wide. He loomed over her furiously.  
“I- Dolphie sent me- I didn’t intend to-”  
“Get on with it, you worthless-” Voldemort hissed, advancing towards her. He would wring her neck, he would suck her soul from her, he would-  
“I can be of help to you!” Bellatrix whined shrilly. The older she got, the less the whiny brat expression suited her, not that it ever had.  
“Take the Weasleyette to Hogwarts,” snapped Voldemort. “She needs to finish her schooling.”  
“My Lord-” Bellatrix argued.  
“You dare challenge me, Bella?”  
“No, my Lord-”  
“Then do as I say!” He boomed, his hand flailing open, undoing Ginny’s bindings. She stood at once, and then Bellatrix wordlessly led her to the fireplace.  
She would finish her schooling, be the best she could be, and only then would Voldemort break her. It would be most satisfying then…  
He had business at Hogwarts, too, but it could until nightfall. His business was in Rodolphus’ new desk; Dumbledore’s old. He would repair his Horcruxes… And Ginny would get her beloved Nagini back; Riddle Junior’s diary.


	2. Chapter 2

Tom,  
Do you believe in love at first sight?  
Ginny,  
I’m not entirely sure i believe in love at all, why?  
Tom,  
It came up today in DADA while discussing Salazar Slytherin. I think a lot of people have misconceptions about love, you know. Romantic, familial, friendly… Everything.  
Ginny,  
I’d be honored to hear your opinion, my dear.  
Tom,  
Love is a chemical reaction in the brain. Love can be felt at first sight… But what people think is love isn’t actually. Love is a biochemical reaction that gives you need to be with someone; the romantic aspects of it, anyway. Familial love is instinct ground into us by evolution, and friendly love is simply the forming of connections in one’s brain that you are basically training yourself to enjoy their presence. What people think is love is a combination of those, and sexual hormones, and simply having experience with someone.  
Ginny,  
That’s a very interesting and informed opinion of love… If I may, how old are you? I figured you were a first year with how you spoke in your first entry, but surely you aren’t so young- not that it’s a bad thing if you are.  
Tom,  
I am a first year. My birthday’s 11 August, 1981. How old are you? Are you the same age as you were when you were put in here?  
Ginny,  
I was eighteen when I was put in here. It was right before the end of my seventh year. I remember there was a tragedy… A young girl dying in a bathroom??  
Tom,  
How unfortunate… And you’re so old! I thought you were my age!  
Ginny,  
Impossible, dear. I told you how long I’ve been here, didn’t I?  
Tom,  
Speaking of things you’ve told me… You didn’t tell me more about you. I want a big paragraph, please!  
Ginny,  
If you insist. My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle, son of Tom Riddle Sr and Merope Gaunt. My father was a Muggle whom my mother had given a strong love potion to for a very long time. She stopped eventually, thinking he’d really love her, but after I was born, he left. She died soon thereafter and thus, I was an orphan from the age of a month or two. I was left in an orphanage, ignorant to my powers, and everyone was afraid of me because of the peculiar things that had a knack happening to and around me. When I was eleven, Professor Dumbledore came to inform me of my abilities. I went to Hogwarts, and it became my safe haven. I was Sorted into Slytherin and had many friends… What House are you in, I wonder, dear Ginny?  
Tom,  
That’s… Quite a story. I’m very sorry about that. I can’t begin to imagine how awful that must have been… I’m a Gryffindor. I like it well enough, but Percy’s our prefect and I detest him too much for words. What did Dumbledore teach?  
Ginny,  
Dumbledore taught Transfiguration. Does he still dress so mismatched and odd? Is his hair still red- that’d be odd, he’s, oh, what, 1,000,000,000 years old?  
Tom,  
Ha! No, he dresses all fancy and important, in blue and purple and orange and red, but all solidly one color at a time… As Headmaster he’s apparently changed a bit. And he had red hair?! It’s all white now, and dreadfully long… Longer than mine, I reckon. How long is your hair, pray tell?  
Ginny,  
I’ve always prided myself upon being a good artist… Would you like if I tried that?  
Tom,  
Yes, please! :-)  
Ginny,  
http://img03.deviantart.net/3329/i/2015/154/6/1/riddle_by_las_t-d8qyhu3.jpg  
Tom,  
Oh, it’s lovely! If you look like that- and I most definitely doubt that you do- you’re the most attractive person I’ve ever seen. Maybe one day, when you’re out of that diary, you can draw me?  
Ginny,  
We’ll have to wait until your sixth or seventh year so we’ll be the same age. But then, of course, I’d be thrilled to draw your lovely face.  
Tom,  
How d’you know it’s lovely? I could look like a troll!  
Ginny,  
Even if you do, you’ll look lovely to me after 5 or so years of getting to know one another.  
Tom,  
Alright… Promise me you will draw me if you ever get out, because breakfast is almost over and I need to go to class.  
Ginny,  
I promise I will draw you. Now go to your class.

Voldemort scrutinized his painting with narrowed scarlet eyes. Ginny was looking over her a shoulder, her face calm and sleepy. Her ginger hair was in a loose braid down her back and an autumn jumper was falling off her shoulder, her skin dark, freckles dotting all over her.  
It was good, he decided, glancing down at the sketch on which he’d based his painting on… He hoped Ginny would like it.  
He stood and glanced at the clock- it was about an hour before Hogwarts would be having dinner. Perfect- he could be with Ginny until she had to eat, and then deal with Rodolphus and the broken horcruxes.  
He flicked his wrist to dry the painting and carefully carried that and the sketch to the fireplace. He didn’t need to use it, of course, but there was a certain civility that he hoped Ginny would appreciate. Maybe he could charm his way back into her good graces, and not need to ruin her to keep her… Unlikely, but not impossible.  
He climbed out of the fireplace to the Gryffindor Common Room and saw Ginny immediately, on a loveseat with her feet tucked under her, talking to Longbottom.  
She tensed and looked away, and Voldemort turned into Tom and smiled easily.  
Longbottom coughed and all other Gryffindors stared, most obviously terrified, some angry.  
“Ginny,” Riddle said in greeting and bent politely. He set the sketch on her lap, and she looked down at it. “Because I promised to draw you,” Riddle’s smile was small and quirky. “And, this,” He set the painting down, too, and the magical paint moved at the sight of her, fierce and fiery. “Is simply because I wanted to.”  
Ginny said nothing, just examined the painting and looked back at Voldemort, stubborn as ever. Riddle smiled.  
“What d’you want from me,” Ginny whispered gently. Riddle laughed, then tilted his head and crouched. Ginny looked down at him, face a seething, broken hatred, head swaying slowly, as Tom leaned forward.  
“I want nothing from you,” Tom said. “You are already mine.”  
Ginny inhaled and straightened, and in one motion set the drawing and painting aside, sat forward and leaned very close to Tom Riddle’s face.  
“No. I am not. You may be able to force me to do things by blackmail because I, unlike you, am capable of love, but you not own me.” Ginny’s voice was like the spitting of a fire, and Tom Riddle laughed a true, wholehearted laugh before standing. Ginny looked up at him.  
“For all intents and purposes,” Tom said, and ran his fingers through her hair. “It means the same thing.”  
“Not to me,” Ginny said.  
“No, not to you,” Voldemort said, playing with her hair. Suddenly, however, he yanked her up by her hair. She didn’t so much as flinch. He laughed. “Six brothers pulling your hair all the time, eh?” He teased lightly. Ginny spat in his face.  
Riddle suppressed the ignition of fury in his chest and wiped it off, then pulled Ginny close. “Kiss me,” he commanded gently. Ginny laughed darkly.  
“Kiss me, or Neville will be the first to die,” Ginny face scrunched up hatefully. “I can call Bellatrix here, right now. Maybe we could summon his parents, finish them- put them out of their misery-”  
Ginny yanked Tom by the hair to her mouth and slammed her face into his, and pursed her lips a bit before shoving him back.  
A normal man would have cracked back against the fireplace, but luckily, Tom Riddle Jr hadn’t lost his immense strength, and hardly wavered.  
“You call that a kiss, Ginny?” Tom asked lightheartedly. “I wonder what Potter thinks of that,” mused Tom. “Perhaps I should ask-”  
“You leave him alone,” spat Ginny.  
Riddle grinned playfully. “Who’s going to make me?”  
“I hate you,” Ginny ground out. Tom chuckled and walked towards her again, putting a hand on her cheek.  
“And I am the closest to loving you that I can be.”  
Ginny sneered. “You’ve got one hell of a way to show it. Most guys give the girl flowers, or chocolates, or jewelry… But you opted to ruin everything I love.”  
“You’ve got most of your family, haven’t you? Most of your friends? Your school?” Tom was solemn suddenly, and pulled Ginny close again, to her feet. “If you’d like to see the ruination of everything, I most definitely will show you. Until then, do not accuse me of things I have not done.”  
Ginny looked up at him. “Most of my family,” she said bitterly. “I want all of my family!” Ginny screamed in Riddle’s face. An idea suddenly hit Voldemort, and he smiled.  
“Well,” He stroked her arm. “If I find a way for that to be possible, would that right my wrongs a bit, in your eyes.”  
Ginny studied him for a long time. “It isn’t possible,” she said gently. “Fred and Ron are dead, and there isn’t anything you can do to change that.”  
“Perhaps,” Tom said. “But that is what people thought about immortality before Horcruxes were created, yes?”  
Ginny worked her jaw. “If you find a way to bring people back from the dead,” she laughed gently. “And not just my family…” Ginny took a step back, and sat down. “Then I will forever be in your debt.”  
Tom grinned devilishly. “Is that a promise?”  
Ginny looked down at her legs, which she tucked under her once more. “It is,” she whispered gently. Tom leaned down and kissed her forehead.  
“I’ve got to go, pet. Have a lovely meal.” Voldemort stalked out of the room then, and headed towards the Headmaster’s office, grinning and crossing his arms. He would find a way to bring people back from the dead… And win over his Ginny. Sure, it would be hard, but he’d always loved a challenge.  
He sighed as he approached the gargoyle and waved his hand to open it, then walked up the steps and directly into the office.  
Bellatrix was on Rodolphus’ desk, dress restraining her like a rope, and Rodolphus was bare, slamming into her. However, he instantly stopped and magically clothed them both when Voldemort walked in.  
“Who the hell-” Rodolphus started. Riddle realized that he was still, in fact Riddle.  
“Dolphie! It is our Lord!” Bellatrix flew off the desk and clung to her husband’s arm, looking in admiration at Voldemort, who cracked his neck and turned into his regular form.  
“Pardon me. Didn’t want to draw the attention of too many students,” Voldemort explained. “Dinner is starting, yes? You’d best get to it then,”  
Rodolphus bowed politely, and Bellatrix smiled psychotically, walking out with her husband but never breaking eye contact with Voldemort, which made the Dark Lord very uncomfortable, indeed.  
As soon as they were gone, Voldemort went through the desk, to no avail. Snape had kept all of the Horcruxes there! By the time he finished searching the entire office, he was livid, and Apparated into Great Hall.  
The students silenced immediately, much to Voldemort’s satisfaction, but he stalked with a purpose to Rodolphus and leaned over the table. The new Headmaster met his eye.  
“My Lord,” he greeted.  
“Where are my Horcruxes, Rodolphus?”  
“I-”  
“Where are they?” Voldemort screamed.  
“They were destroyed, my Lord, I-”  
“What did you do with them?” Voldemort roared.  
“I got rid of them,” Rodolphus said quietly.  
“You got rid of them,” Voldemort breathed.  
“Yes,” Rodolphus said.  
“I will deal with you later, then,” Voldemort hissed. Then, he Disapparated, wondering where the hell he would find new Horcruxes.


	3. I'm Sorry

I've tried time and time again to come back to this work, but I can't. It's too much for me. If anyone would like it, message me and I'll give it to you. I haven't the stomach for such a dark fic anymore.


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